Icarus Falling
by tobeimmortal
Summary: "Some days I found myself the lion, others the tin man; the miles of brick road were stained red."  - Private Edward Masen, Runner in the 131st Infantry, France 1918. Entry in the Season of Our Discontent Angst Contest.


A huge thank you to: Miaokuancha for her generosity and unwavering patience, Denverpopcorn for her honesty and support, and LJ Summers for sweeping up my debris.

And of course, Katinki, for the shout-out as her judge's pick in the Season of Our Discontent angst contest.

Twilight and its characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer.

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**Icarus Falling**

They called it the Great War, the war to end all wars. An era when the world chose sides and stripped the land of innocence. When women marched and planes flew. It was a time of wonder and progress and plague.

Against my mother's wishes, I entered the war in 1918 when I was sixteen years old. I was seventeen when my life came to an end.

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_May 24, 1918_

_Dearest Isabella,_

_How can it be only a week since I last saw you? It feels as though it's been a lifetime. Our final evening together, kissing you, I had wanted to do that for so long. That moment has run through my mind endlessly. You didn't make it easy for me to leave Chicago, Miss Swan, that's for certain. _

_By the time this letter reaches you, I'm not sure where I will be. Likely somewhere in France, perhaps even in battle. I also don't know how often I'll be able to write. We're told that paper may be in short supply at the front. Regardless, you are with me wherever I am._

_We waved farewell to Lady Liberty on May 22nd, and our journey aboard this grand ship has been quite something. I believe nothing on the sea compares to the Leviathan. The length of her must stretch for miles! Can you imagine? There are at least 10,000 of us stacked up like matchsticks in her berths. _

_Despite that, spirits are running high among us all. As I sit here, laughter echoes over the constant rumble of the steam engines, and song fills me with pride in our endeavor. "Over There" is a particular favorite of the doughboys from Kansas. A soldier's sense of duty runs deep in the vein you see; that is the common bond between us. What man doesn't wish to stand tall in the eyes of his country, and most importantly, those he loves? _

_While taking to the high seas under the stars might at first seem a romantic journey, I assure you, in the company of this many men it is nothing of the sort. The Atlantic can be as cantankerous as old Mrs. Crowley when the pigeons perch on her clothesline; her bluster has unsettled a fair share. I find the best way to counteract the sickness when she heaves is to stay securely in my bunk. _

_All the same, I very much wish you were here with me tonight. The full moon has cast a blanket of crystals on the ocean unlike anything I have ever seen. Perhaps I should scoop up the gems. I'll keep them in my pocket and demand a fair price when we reach Paris. Or maybe I will stow them in a secret place. Then I can have them made into the finest necklace for you when I return. You may think that sounds foolhardy, but I would travel far and wide to bring you anything you desired, Isabella._

_To my good fortune, Benjamin Cheney and Michael Newton are my bunkmates and proving to be swell company. As you know, Michael is the best friend a fellow could ever have, and I'm mighty glad we're in this together. Ben is a new acquaintance, but when Michael and I learned that he's from Oak Park, we couldn't help becoming instant pals. We Chicago boys are going to stick together. Ben is a few years older than we are, and his wife is expecting their first child. She wasn't at all keen on his departure it seems, but he wanted in on the action, and this war waits for no one. _

_The anticipation of what lies ahead is sometimes unbearable. None of us know what the future holds, but we look forward to it eagerly just the same. Yet, I've come to realize, that every mile closer to my destination takes me that much farther from you. It is as if my desires have torn me in two._

_Please don't forget me, Isabella._

_Yours,  
>Edward<em>

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_May 29, 1918_

_Dear Brother,_

_How are Mother and Father? I have written but I fear there is nothing I can say to ease Mother's grief. I hated to leave her in such a state—yet what should I have done? This is my duty, I won't be a shirker. Father understands, of course; he'd go too, if he could. However I need you to be there for Mother. I seem unable to comfort her, and it weighs on me something terrible. Be mindful that when Father is out, you will be the man of the house. Please, I ask that you look after her. Will you do that for me?_

_I hope that your examinations are going well. Have you taken my advice and asked Father for help on your Latin? Don't be shy about asking. "Exitus acta probat." Keep that in mind, Jasper._ _There is a whole world to be found in the pages of great books. Do not be discouraged; learning requires time and diligence as I have said many times. Baseball is not the only thing of importance. You will have the whole summer for the park. _

_I am writing to you from our ocean crossing. We passed the coast of Ireland today and should soon be docking in France. _

_The Atlantic is vast beyond measure, stretching far past what the eye can see. Until today, we had not seen land since we departed, which put us completely at her mercy. There's a good bit of thrill in that notion. Some day you will get your chance and then I believe you'll agree—Lake Michigan, by comparison, resembles nothing more than a spring puddle. _

_In case you were hoping for details in the days and months to come, know that the army will censor our letters from this point forward. Which means there is only so much I can share. I shall try my best to keep you filled with tales of adventure, but I hope you understand that some things will have to wait until I return. We are going to send the Kaiser packing for good, little brother. I can feel it to the soles of my feet. _

_Travel is going well, if not for some sickness. Newton has the tint of pea soup and sweats like Mr. Gerandy on his walk to church. But don't tell Garrett I said so; no use in thinking his brother isn't up to the job. I suppose it's unfair to give him too much grief, as we've all fared a bit worse for wear during this journey. The quarters are cramped, but we're passing the time as best we can with gin rummy and poker (don't tell Mother that). I've done rather well for myself, all things considering. _

_The decks of this ship cannot hold us all, but when we get our turn topside we take great pleasure in searching for the Huns and their submarines. Mostly, we get ahead of ourselves, and every piece of driftwood or shadow becomes a periscope. This morning though, I wish you could have seen the ruckus. It was the most excitement yet. Newton and I were lingering on deck having a smoke and enjoying the salty air, when just off bow a destroyer dashed in to drop a depth charge. We all clambered to the rail as foam, metal, and oil, blew thirty feet into the sky. Oh boy, did we cheer. You would think the Cubs had won the World Series again. _

_Well, I must conclude, but please write and keep me up to date on everything back home._

_Your brother,  
>Edward<em>

_P.S. __If I may ask, would you do me the favor of looking in on Isabella? Of course she is able to see to herself, but it would comfort me to know that she is always escorted._

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_June 22, 1918_

_My Dear Edward,_

_You have made me smile today. In fact, I may not stop smiling for the next week. _

_I've finally received your letters. They are dated nearly a month from before the post delivered them. I hope that means you have received at least one of mine by now, as I sent them shortly after you left. I cannot imagine all the things you will have already seen by the time this reaches you. If only there were a way to speak to you and hear of your great accomplishments sooner. _

_I miss you, dear Edward, very much indeed. I miss the conviction in your voice when you are so sure that you're right. I miss the way you try to make me blush with your teasing. The park is not the same without your company. I believe even Mr. Gerandy's stray cats miss you, too. I am glad however that Michael is with you. It's important to have those connections to home. Enclosed is a recent photograph that Mother insisted I pose for. Hopefully it is one more connection for you to have. _

_Do you truly think that I could forget you? How would that be possible, when you are the boy who stole my apple on my first day at a new school last year? You are also the scoundrel who threw pebbles at my window the night before you left Chicago. Did you sneak into my bedroom only to presume to steal my memories? Silly boy, of course I would never forget you. I believe you ensured it with our first kiss, or perhaps that was your design from the start. I only regret that we must wait until the war is over to have our second. Perhaps it is scandalous to say, but merely thinking about the brush of your lips makes my face warm. You will not think less of me for letting you through my window while my parents were asleep, I hope?_

_Are the girls over there pretty? Do they smell of exotic perfumes? I have heard stories, which does make me wonder. I hope they do not succeed in stealing your heart as you have stolen mine._

_You may be proud to know that I have been doing my part for the war effort, too. Mother and I, and Mrs. Brandon and Alice, have been knitting for the Red Cross. It's so rewarding to be helping in any way possible. Every time I finish a sock, I say a prayer that fate will bring it to you. It's silly I suppose, but the thought that we might remain connected in even the smallest ways fills me with some contentment._

_Yesterday I applied to work at St. Joseph Hospital. Charlotte Andrews said they are taking volunteers. She is planning to become a nurse and I think that is something I would also like to do. I know I will need schooling, but there will be much to learn from the opportunity. This may be a path toward a future career if all goes well. _

_Mother of course encourages it. You know how she is with her suffragist activities. She believes it's important to become involved in efforts that are "in declaration of our God-given rights," so I must attend a meeting with her tomorrow. It makes her happy and I do see merit in the cause. How do you feel about an independent woman, Mr. Masen?_

_Godspeed._

_Truly,  
>Isabella<em>

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_June 6, 1918_

_Bonjour Isabella,_

_Michael and Ben and I are now billeted with our regiment outside Paris. After many miles of marching, trains, and more marching, we're all allowed a few days of rest. It's a welcome relief. Though from here, the distant drumbeat of artillery only fuels our desire to get on with it._

_The fellows here are fine company, and yet I cannot help wishing you were by my side to share these picturesque days we've been given. The countryside is not unlike our own farmlands, although in many ways it is also quite foreign: the smells, the language, and of course the ongoing reminder of what lies afield. Someday, when this war is behind us, I want to bring you here to linger in the rolling tapestry of greens and gold. Perhaps we will find a spring meadow of blooming wildflowers to have a picnic; feast on fine cheeses and nap beneath a great Oak. I believe you will love the quaint villages with their rough stone houses, and the funny speckled chickens that scratch about in the dirt. The accent of the locals is enchanting, and the thought of you speaking French to me one day is something that thrills me._

_My duffle bag was lost at port along with dozens of others'. There's no knowing when it will be retrieved, and I'm afraid to tell you, I no longer have the compass you gave me. I should have kept it close, but I thought it would be safe. I didn't know. The family we're staying with has been kind enough to lend me some necessities, but your gift was irreplaceable. That has troubled me greatly._

_The French people are surely gracious, despite working their fields from morning until late at night. Every scrap and twig is saved, yet their heads are held high and proud. I have seen no men about, only women, children and the very old. Even their horses have been sacrificed for the war effort. Many wear emblems of mourning for husbands and sons lost to these years of battle. I try not to dwell on that for too long. _

_You might be pleased to know, a young farm girl has caught Michael's eye. Ben and I have tried to help him, but his attempts at communicating only confuse her. He's a handy soldier, but it would seem he requires a bit more practice with women. I have never known him to be stricken with such shyness. Poor fellow is being driven mad by her glances and smiles. I must confess, it's no different when I'm with you._

_I continue to pray for my mother's happiness. She will miss it if you stop coming by, so please do visit her when you can. It may be a painful reminder of my absence, but I trust you will be able to keep her mind on more pleasant topics. I know that she has several books she wanted to share with you. Be assured you are most welcome at our home any time; she thinks of you as a daughter in many ways._

_My previous letters are hopefully on their way, I do not want you to believe I have forsaken you for some young maid. Know that you are the only one for me, Isabella; just promise that you will wait for me to return._

_With love,  
>Edward<em>

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_June 20, 1918_

_Dear Brother,_

_I am writing to you on my birthday. It is a curious feeling not to be celebrating at home. If I had a candle, I would gladly wish for two helpings of Mrs. Cope's Devil's Food Cake and Mother's singing. But here, today is simply another day. Newton did manage to find me some of the good tobacco though. You can get plenty of the English kind, but it doesn't taste much like tobacco._

_Have you seen Isabella? I've written, but would gladly take any word of her you may have._

_Mother's recent letter was encouraging enough, but I can tell that she is still not herself. Maybe it was the press of her pen, or maybe I've come to learn when she is holding her tongue. Perhaps I am just troubled by what she did not say. Do you think she will ever forgive me?_

_Hopefully my success will allow her some pride in my choice and make it easier if this war lasts long enough for you to join. I know you understand why I couldn't turn away from this chance, Jasper. You and I have a similar need for excitement; we only seek it in different places. Do you remember how I used to tell Mother I planned to discover new lands and bring her back exotic treasures? She of course would always reply, "All that I need is right here in front of me." But I knew there was more out there waiting for me._

_This war is of far greater consequence than any schoolboy fantasy. I'm determined for my part in it to make me a man that she and Father can be proud to call "Son". _

_We have moved to a new station and it was two days of hard marching through valleys and thick forests. My feet have held strong, but Cheney hasn't been so lucky. On our way here, it became clear how close we've finally come to the front. After all the time it's taken, I thought we'd never arrive. The airplanes are within sight and our attention must remain sharp, even at night. _

_For a week now we have been training with the Third British Corps. They are nice enough fellows and very skilled at war tactics. The drills are rigorous and the summer heat pressing down adds to the challenge, but I know this effort will serve us well in our tasks ahead. For that I can't complain too much. Although now I find I am marching even in my sleep._

_I have volunteered as a runner for my battalion, and am paired up with a Brit named James Martin for my orientation. He's been a part of the fight for 2 years now and his stories of "outrunning and outgunning" are something else. His sense of humor takes some getting used to, but I believe if I follow his advice I will have a good deal of luck here. This is a job that requires quick feet. Yet finding one's way in the dark is tricky business, so it's also necessary to be clever and well-trained. Of course, having nerve is also important. James and I are well-matched, and will head out soon to track the best route to the line. Then our job will be to bring our battalions by cover of night to relieve the current tour. That is when the real action begins. _

_Wish me luck._

_Your brother,  
>Edward<em>

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_July 18, 1918_

_Dearest Isabella,_

_Yes Miss Swan, I would be most happy to have a progressive, independent woman, as long as she still needed me._

_I hope you know, I do need you, and I think of you every day. Sometimes more._

_Did you know that your eyebrows pull together when you concentrate on whatever it is you're trying to work out? But then the moment an idea comes to you, your whole countenance brightens and the corner of your mouth turns up in satisfaction. Did you know that, too?_

_And your lips, oh your lips, they torture me. The way they purse when you don't agree with me, but then you're kind enough to hold your tongue. Though don't believe for one moment that I don't see what you're thinking._

_I received your letters and photograph today, and you cannot imagine how grateful I am for any word from you. I've reread each of them in the hopes that I may in some way find your touch through the paper. _

_Have you enjoyed your summer? What books are you reading? Please, tell me everything that is going on back in Chicago. Is Mr. Gerandy successfully keeping the cats from depositing their litters under his front porch? Are there any new picture shows playing? It must be quite hot there by now. I'm sure the beaches are filled and any shade to be found is just as crowded. _

_The 131st did a valiant job at Hamel and we lost no one. It was an arduous fight and we succeeded in capturing a good many Huns. I do not intend to taint you with the things I have seen, but know that I am all right. _

_We are staying busy until we move forward again. Even with this victory, the war is not over yet. My duties keep me focused on the task at hand, which in many ways is a blessing. Letting one's mind wander only leads to wishing for things one cannot have. _

_When my thoughts do escape me, it is the presence of your company they run to. I had never known what it was like to be separated from my heart before this. The longing of the great poets spoke of nonsense to me until now. I wish for many things, but above all, I dream of a long happy life with you, Isabella. _

_I dream of waking up to the sound of your laughter each day. _

_I dream of Saturdays in the library when we're stooped and grey. _

_I dream of Sunday dinners with children and grandchildren. _

_I also dream of no promises but the ones that we've made to each other._

_I don't mean to frighten you or be presumptuous, since it has been not quite a year that we've known one another. Is it inappropriate to share my desire for a future with you by letter? I'd like to believe Byron would do the same, so promise not to hold it against me. _

_This war has caused me to take a second look at what is right and what is wrong. If I have drawn any conclusions, it is that expressing my feelings for you cannot be wrong._

_There is no predicting what tomorrow or the next day holds, but I do know that I love you. I know that when this is over, I never want to be parted from you again. For as long as we both shall live._

_Right now I know it's too much to ask, so please do not feel obligated to answer. I only wish you for you to know what you mean to me._

_Yours always,  
>Edward<em>

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_July 12, 1918_

_Dear Brother,_

_What can I tell you of things? It's nearly a week since our first real battle and it still hasn't fully settled in my mind yet. The taking of Hamel was a success. We made it out without losing any men, and are grateful for that. _

_The night of our offensive, orders came quickly and we moved out late, crawling over the top to begin our push forward. No man's land was so black I could hardly see the fellow in front of me. Not even the stars provided the faintest light. We were ordered to be silent but my heart was making quite a racket, all right. Then the sky erupted and we charged into all manner of chaos. _

_I ran as fast as I was able and tried to mind Newton and Cheney in the glow of the artillery. The fighting was vigorous and within those 12 hours we gained and lost ground, then gained it back. I was glad to see it all come to a triumphant end._

_You learn quickly there is no outrunning the shells and gas, no matter how fast you think you are. A brief, shrill whistle that sets your every hair on end is the only warning before your teeth are rattled from your gums and your flesh shakes loose from the bone. One must keep his wits if he wishes to remain among the living. _

_War is a peculiar thing, Jasper. Hunter or hunted makes no difference; there are nerves in both. Your body yearns to take flight, yet the mind reasons with it to remain still, wait it out. It's as incompatible as south and north. _

_Now we are holding the trenches and the rain has been endless for three days. There's no shelter to speak of. While I should be thankful for the only bath I've had in over a month, my boots are soaked through and I could do with some clean socks. What I wouldn't give for even a scrap of Mrs. Cope's cooking right now. We have come to share many things soldier to soldier, but a warm loaf of her bread is one I might keep to myself. _

_It is impossible to imagine how much you would miss, until you are without it._

_Yesterday, we spent a good deal of time bailing out the standing water. Today, Commander Laurent has assigned me the task of gathering up and organizing the belongings of the boys who have fallen. I cannot bear to share all I've seen, just know that the snipers are damned good at their jobs. Letters and watches and personal things will need to be returned home to their families. It's my responsibility to make sure it's done properly. It's brief work, Jasper. There's little enough left of a man, when all is said and done._

_We're getting word now, more battle to come. Pray for me._

_Your brother,  
>Edward<em>

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_August 3, 1918_

_My Dear Edward,_

_Did you mean what you said? Do you really wish for a future with me? If so, then I believe our dreams are the same. Or perhaps you have read my thoughts. Mind you, if you are truly asking for my hand, then it should be done properly. I want to hear the words from your lips before I give you my consent. It is possible my father may have something to say about that as well._

_I'll have you know, these months have been a true test of my will. It has taken great resolve not to hop on a steamer and seek you out. Instead, I have been carrying your letters with me everywhere. This morning I took them to our park in hopes that I would feel that much closer to you._

_Your brother was there playing baseball with some friends and he appears quite capable at the sport. I watched him make it all the way around the bases in one hit. You may find it amusing that he claims to be nearly as fast as you. It is so uncharacteristic to see quiet little Jasper preen his tail feathers. Perhaps a race is in order once you return? I believe he has found his element on the ball field. Or, he may have simply found purpose in his responsibilities with you away._

_He offered to walk me home and the boys jeered him for leaving the game to talk to a girl. Far be it from me to separate a man from his ballgame, so I assured him I was able to walk myself. He really is a sweet boy. I am certain he will make some young lady very happy one day. Your mother has raised two gentlemen, indeed._

_I stopped by your house to return your mother's Prufrock last week. Mrs. Cope said she was out. Your mother has put her philanthropic might behind a large organizational effort with the Red Cross, and seems to be running herself ragged. She has steeled her resolve in doing everything she can to support you. Edward, she is an amazing woman and an inspiration to us all. _

_My first day volunteering at the hospital was yesterday. I believe it is going to be splendid, even though most of what I'm doing now is cleaning and learning where things go. The nurses are so diligent and do so much for the patients. I can see that it is a very fulfilling job and I am confident this is where my path lies._

_I have heard that Garrett and Michael's sister has given birth to a baby girl. They should be quite the protective uncles, I wager. Not once had I given thought to it before, but now I think I would have liked a chance to be the doting aunt had I had a sister. I wonder if Jessica would mind if I came by to see the baby?_

_The news back here only tells us that things are going well. Please be safe. The thought that I might never see you again is something I am unwilling to face. _

_I love you beyond reason._

_Truly yours,  
>Isabella<em>

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_August 6, 1918_

_My Dear Edward,_

_The army sent your family a telegram today, but none of us have details of your condition or whereabouts. Only that you were injured three days ago. Oh Edward, I'm heartsick. I have been praying since your mother told me. I can't get to you and I desperately need to know you're safe and still alive. _

_I don't know how to help you. What can I do? If I were able to jump in a time machine, I would be there yesterday. Or perhaps I could steal aboard a ship. Just tell me where to go and I will come to you. I cannot stand being this far from you knowing you are hurt in any way. _

_If only I were already a nurse. Then I could join the Red Cross and come to you. I'd know how to properly tend your wounds and ease your pain._

_Please, where are you?_

_With all my love and prayers,  
>Isabella<em>

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_September 11, 1918_

_Dearest Isabella,_

_I am safe. You do not need to worry any more._

_If you have not heard, I am currently at a base hospital in Paris. There is not much to say. I am recovering. The nurses are kind, and it's all very white and very clean. _

_The days pass too slowly. Reading and sleeping occupy most of my time. The constant supply of medication helps with the latter. It also holds the dreams at bay, so in all it is a good thing. _

_Nurse Hale, here, has taken pity on me and offered to send my letters directly so that they might reach you sooner. She lost her brother to the battle of Ypres a year ago. I believe that's why she holds a great deal of sympathy for the soldiers in the ward. It would seem there isn't a person on this continent that hasn't been touched by this war in some way._

_Please write as much as you are able. I need you more than ever now, Isabella. I would like to believe myself above begging, but my pride was left on the battlefield at the Somme. And war is something I do not want to hear anymore talk of. _

_Tell me all about your work in the hospital. I am sure you're doing a splendid job. Your compassion and fortitude will make you invaluable in your pursuit and I am delighted you have found a calling that speaks to you as this does. I can tell you from this end, the nurses work very hard and have been very patient, even when I've given them no reason to be. I'm not sure I would be suited for this work, but I know that you will be brilliant._

_I apologize for not sounding myself. This is not how I envisioned I would return to you. This is not what I envisioned at all. I once believed myself invincible. It turns out I am merely human._

_Sincerely,  
>Edward<em>

_P.S. I know this is not an adequate birthday gift, nor will it reach in you in time, but you are in my thoughts nonetheless. With all my heart, I wish you a happy day._

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_September 12, 1918_

_Dear Mother,_

_I am sorry._

_I have lost many things, not the least of which are my words. There is so much I should say, that I've wanted to say, but haven't had the courage. Please believe it when I tell you yet again that I'm sorry. I will never be free from the need to apologize. If any reason for my actions can be given, it is only that I wanted to make you proud. That and of course the foolish dreams of a naïve boy. The regret I carry must be my penance for the decisions I've made. _

_The past month has been difficult, and acceptance is beyond my reach. You must understand, my duty as a soldier is finished. I do not know when I will be coming home, but rest assured, there is nowhere left for me to go once I leave here. _

_You were right Mother; you were right all along. I should have listened. I know that if I had only heeded your wishes, things would have gone differently. Right now we could be in the library toiling over Homer, or perhaps Isabella and I would be strolling arm and arm. The possibilities for another life are endless, had I not chosen this one._

_The chaplain insists that all things are according to God's wishes, but I am not so sure. If there is a reason for any of this, I have yet to understand it. Perhaps it is all to balance my crimes. Right now, I cannot find it in me to pray for answers I know will not come._

_I fought with everything I had and still it was in vain. The things I've seen, the things I've done, you cannot imagine. I fear I am no longer your son._

_Do not worry for me, Mother. The nurses are swift with the morphine and laudanum, which ease the pain considerably. Some days I wonder if I should try to endure, rather than be so quick to concede. To feel is to be alive, after all. I wonder if Michael would agree. He'd probably tell me I was talking nonsense again._

_I try not to think about that, which only brings about more thoughts. Like a wheel, my mind spins round and round. He gave his life for mine, and that is a sacrifice I will never be able to repay. Please pass along my condolences to his family. I'm not sure I'd even be able to face them if given the chance. _

_You may like to know the King of England has awarded the 131st for our efforts back in July at Hamel. I wasn't there to receive my medal, but I have it all the same. I am unsure how to feel about this honor. It is a token of what I set out to accomplish. At present, it holds little consolation._

_I miss you all so much. Give my regards to Father and Jasper, as well as Mrs. Cope._

_Your loving son,  
>Edward<em>

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_September 12, 1918 _

_Dear Brother,_

_My footsteps are not ones to follow, so clear your mind of that right now. You and Garrett will not seek revenge on our account. I know what I said in the past, but war is no place for you. I told a lie to get my way and you will never understand how I have paid for it. To believe that to kill is in some way the measure of a man, is untrue. Do you have any idea what this is? Do you think there's a hero inside waiting to test his mettle? The papers, they leave out every important piece of fact. _

_Listen to me and listen to me good, Jasper. I thought I knew. Though I suppose there is nothing to be said that would explain it properly. The images, the smells, the deafening sounds; some days I couldn't even hear my own thoughts and believed all reason had been shaken loose. The front is unlike anything you can begin to imagine. _

_They never told us we would see the inside of a man, that we would be covered in the soldier next to us. Our friends, our brothers. Blood coats your mind and clouds your sense at first. Then after a while, it becomes commonplace. Is that something you want to become? _

_If you think I'm telling you this to frighten you, you're right. There are things you should know before you assume you know what is best. _

_I fall asleep at night wondering if the dead will receive a proper church burial and if their remains will be blessed. What of their mothers, their wives, their children? The tragedy of it all is that we fight men that are no different from ourselves. Somewhere on the other side, across a great sea of tangled wire and rotting flesh are kindred spirits, praying, just as I did, for the chance to see their loved ones again._

_Michael joined because of me, you know. It's not that he didn't want to. He was rather fond of the idea, and his family thought it a fine thing. They've always been keen patriots. So, I suppose when I told him I was doing it and he should too, he didn't have a good reason not to. Even still, it is my fault he was here._

_Please, Garrett needs to know, his brother was the bravest of us all._

_The night before it all happened we were standing sentry, and a sniper's shot whizzed past the top of Michael's head. Anyone else would have been unseated, but he hardly flinched, simply kept his eyes trained forward and replied, "If that's the best he's got, we've nothing to worry about from the poor bastard." _

_Even under the most harrowing circumstances, he remained steady and true. Michael was a valiant soldier and his dry wit made this tour more manageable than it would have been without his companionship._

_It's still so hard to believe._

_Little brother, promise me this is not something you would ever willingly choose. It would kill Mother and Father to lose you, too._

_Your brother,  
>Edward<em>

~•~•~•~

.  
>.<p>

~•~•~•~

_My Isabella..._

_I'm so sorry. For everything._

_What you are doing today? _

_Will you sit with your tea on the front porch in the crisp autumn air? Will you think of me when the last vibrant leaf tumbles from the elm tree? _

_Is your face turned toward the sun…its gold gracing your neck? Your skin, a temptation._

_I remember the day, that first glimpse of you. Gravity pulling me forward, feet held in place. Could you feel me watching? I have not looked away since. You may not have seen me fall, but you caught me with your smile._

_I'm not ready to let you go._

~•~•~•~

.  
>.<p>

~•~•~•~

_October 5, 1918_

_My Dear Edward,_

_I am deeply sorry for what you are going through. Your parents did receive word from the hospital and informed me of such. Please tell me you are doing all right and recovering swiftly. When I think of you in pain, it feels like my chest is folding in on itself. If there is anything, anything at all I can do, promise you'll tell me. I haven't been able to convince Mother to let me come to you, but I'm persistent on that front. She thinks I'm being silly, but she doesn't understand what you mean to me. If I can find a way, I will. I miss you so, and it seems years since we were last together._

_Do you know when you'll be coming home? Forgive my impatience; I just feel so helpless. The picture I keep with me is merely a sepia imposter. It can't whisper words of love and devotion that send chills to the roots of my hair, or warm me with its touch. _

_Perhaps there is something I could learn from the doctors here that would help. Are the hospitals as modern there as they are here? Will they at least let you out in the sun? Is there a park nearby?_

_Oh dear, what can I tell you of things back here?_

_If you haven't heard, an influenza outbreak is spreading through the country. They are calling it the Spanish Flu. It's begun to take a firm hold in Chicago, and that means at the hospital they may at last let me do more than sweep!_

_Yesterday as I was changing bedsheets, an older man on the cot nearby was having a fit. All the nurses were too busy to help, so I sat with him for a few minutes. It was quite frightening at first, as he began coughing up blood; I wasn't sure what to do. But a cool rag and some comfort seemed to provide enough relief for him to drift off. When I stop to think that could have been you in need, I find myself unable to turn away from anyone's suffering. _

_On a happier note, Jessica's baby is beautiful. I stopped by to visit last week. She's been having a hard time since Michael's memorial, and was pleased to have a moment of rest. At first I was afraid to hold baby Claire, but she fit so well in my arms. It's nearly impossible to imagine someone so small becoming a full-sized person one day. I might have been content to carry her around all afternoon, perhaps even pretend she was mine. Edward, it was so easy to picture her with your green eyes and precocious grin._

_The thought of that, of someday having your child, stirs a warmth deep inside that I can't quite explain. I hope all our children take after their father._

_Much love,  
>Isabella<em>

~•~•~•~

.  
>.<p>

~•~•~•~

_Isa_..._bella_

_You need to forget me._

_Tick. Tock. Tick. The hands count down your departure. Don't mourn me. I am not to be martyred._

_A warm October at the pier, that greedy gull wanted your fingers…ha ha. I should not have laughed. The wind caught your hair as you ran. Earth-colored streamers. Fine strands, reaching out, begging me to follow. _

_I will always follow._

_I am a liar. Weak. Desire makes me a monster._

_I don't know how to do this without you. _

~•~•~•~

.  
>.<p>

~•~•~•~

_November 7, 1918_

_My Dear Edward,_

_I've received two more letters from October. They do seem to be coming a little faster than before, and the sooner I can hear from you is always for the better. _

_I am glad that you've made one or two friends to keep you company. I hate that you are over there alone, but I also know that you are quite a good friend to have, should anybody need one. You possess many wonderful qualities Edward, don't ever doubt that. Michael knew that, too._

_How are you feeling? I'm sorry, I know I continue to ask that, but you haven't said a great deal about your condition._

_It's growing much colder here, which has brought up images of reading in your library on chilly winter afternoons, and of walking to school together through the first snowfall. With the coming holidays, I of course think back to our first Christmas party together at the Brandon's last year. I never told you how badly my feet hurt from dancing that evening. How could I have denied being in your arms all night? You were so handsome, and I could see the envy on all the other girls' faces. Yet you were mine. _

_There are many firsts that I look forward to sharing with you._

_News is that the war is almost over. They expect as early as this month. I pray that means you will be home soon. Truly, Edward, I pray every night for this._

_Thankfully, it would seem the influenza is finally running its course. Fewer people are falling sick and after a very bad month of October, even fewer are dying. At first I didn't believe I could do it. I didn't know if I had it in me to be around this much death, but I quickly learned it's possible to set your mind when you have to. _

_It may be that we both have war stories to tell each other. Please know that you can tell me anything. I'm not afraid. Not any more. _

_I haven't wanted to burden you with the horror of it all, but Edward, it truly has been a horror. At work, I was expected to tag the sick as if they were already dead! People were on floors; the wagons were full; the city ran out of caskets. Two weeks ago, I found a small boy, not more than 7 years old, filthy and wandering down State Parkway alone. When I took him to his house, his entire family had fallen ill. There was nothing I could do; our hospital was already full to overflowing. I went home exhausted and wept for hours. _

_Not even a month ago it seemed as if all hope was lost, and with the war, one couldn't help wondering, what had become of our world? But things are getting better now, and I have faith that we will all see our way through._

_With all of my love and affection,  
>Isabella<em>

~•~•~•~

.  
>.<p>

~•~•~•~

_Dearest_..._Forgive me_...__

_The days grow shorter, and the passing school children must be bundled with mittens. Do they remind you of us? Perhaps one young boy might slow his pace just to spend a few more moments with the girl he fancies. _

_Does he offer to carry her books in the faint hope she might linger? _

_Will his stomach leap when she simply casts him a glance? _

_Will she hope to marry him someday? Because he still wishes to marry her. With everything that he is…to make her happy for as long as he has on this earth._

~•~•~•~

.  
>.<p>

~•~•~•~

_November 9, 1918_

_My Darling Isabella,_

_I have started this letter countless times, and each time I have been unable to see it through. I've put off telling you as long as my conscience would allow, and even then, it has gnawed at me awake or asleep. These past months, I convinced myself that none of this was real, that if I put words to paper, it would only make them so. But there is no denying any longer what is directly in front of me._

_The brave soldier is dead, and only a scared boy sits in his place. I am bent over a precipice, my deepest fear in front of me. I haven't been willing to let you go. I still cannot let you go. The thought of never again seeing those brown eyes sparkle with mirth, or kissing you one last time? That pain is greater than anything I have endured. But I promise, I will honor your decision once you learn the truth. _

_You would do best to forget me, Isabella._

_For months, I've replayed the events of August 2nd, wondering at all the ways I could have reached a different outcome. There are answers I suppose, but there's no changing the course, now. _

_We were moving into position for a massive offensive at Somme that night. There was smoke and gas and everything imaginable to disorient us. Lieutenant O'Riley sent me to run a message back down the line. I'd run the top before and escaped without a scratch; I had begun to believe I was indestructible. It was pitch dark when I set off. I determined it would be faster to take a shortcut through the woods. There was no room for error, and I needed to be as swift as possible. All around us, everything was beginning to escalate. It had also been a long few days of shelling and my mind was clouded. No sooner had I returned to Company E, than I heard the whistle of an incoming shell. I made to dive for the trench, but I wasn't fast enough._

_I received word in the field hospital that Michael had reached me in time to drag my useless body back before the heavier shelling, only to be hit as he pushed me, unconscious, ahead of him into a ravine. If he had just let them finish me off, he might still be alive. It is only through his sacrifice that I am here, and I cannot help thinking it should have been me buried under a cross somewhere in France._

_Everyday I am haunted by the truth that it should have been me. _

_My blind, selfish desire for glory has cost me dearly—more than just my own flesh. There is no reason for any of it. Why was I so foolish to think I had any part to play in this war? How was I so arrogant to believe I had something to offer? _

_How can you begin to love a man who puts his own desires before all else? _

_I have not been forthcoming, you see; the boy you knew is gone. I am a cripple, Isabella. I woke up three days after being blown off my feet, to look down and find one leg where two should have been._

_The words they said are etched in my brain: "I'm sorry, Private Masen, there wasn't much left of your leg to save. We did our best, but we figured you would rather have your life. You can thank God for that, as well as Dr. Cullen." Most days I am incapable of thanking God for anything—except you._

_It's gruesome. My own body, and I can't stand the sight of it. I have become more familiar with the ceiling above my bed than what lies below it. I would never expect you to stomach it as well. The pain, the scarring; I'm entombed in a stranger's skin. _

_I can still feel my leg, even now. They say that's common with the nerves, but I don't know how it's possible. One moment it itches, and then it aches and burns. Every time I look to see who has doused me in mustard gas, there is no one beyond the bedrail and nothing beneath the sheet. _

_Every dream, every hope for a future with you has vanished. They say I will never be able to father children, Isabella. There was…other damage. _

_I have nothing to offer you now, and I cannot in good faith tie you to me. Just know, even if you are lost to me, I will always belong to you._

_I promise not to contact you unsolicited any longer._

_With my deepest regret,  
>Edward<em>

~•~•~•~

.  
>.<p>

~•~•~•~

_I'm sorry_...__

_I didn't say that before. _

_I never should have left._

~•~•~•~

.  
>.<p>

~•~•~•~

_December 17, 1918_

_My Dearest Isabella,_

_I know I promised to leave you be, and I've tried so hard, but please, Isabella, please bear with me. I feel as if I have gone mad and there's no one else who might understand but you. Or perhaps you won't understand and this will only seal my fate. Promise you'll hear me out at least._

_You were here. Or, I dreamt you were here. In fact, I was so sure your scent was still lingering on my pillow after I awoke, that I called and called. I tried to go after you but the nurses wouldn't let me. They couldn't possibly understand. It had to be you though, there's no one else it could have been. Please, tell me I haven't gone mad. Tell me you've stepped out and are returning any moment. I can wait. I will be so patient if you only come back. I need to know that it's true. That you haven't given up on me. _

_All last night, you lay curled in my arms and we talked. We talked for hours about everything and nothing. I held you and you kissed me. You laughed. I can't believe I had forgotten the sound of your laughter. You said something about minding the bitter roots overgrowing in the garden—I can't quite remember—and that you prefer daisies in the spring. Most importantly, you said not to lose faith, that you would be patient, and we'd be together once I finally come home. _

_I pray with everything I am that you meant these words and I have reason to rejoice. You have no idea how many months this has plagued me, and now I have never been so at peace. How do you do it? How do you manage to take away all my fears with just your presence? I am sorry I was dishonest. I was so afraid and my thoughts became demons, playing every hand that would undermine what we had. It was selfish and unforgiveable. _

_I will still honor my vow to let you go if that is your wish. But I believe now that I may have been mistaken. You were never mine to lose, only mine to forsake. _

_I never want to let you go. _

_I shall be home in the New Year, I beg you to wait for me._

_Your Edward_

~•~•~•~

.  
>.<p>

~•~•~•~

January 15, 1919

Michael and I swore an oath, as only boys of six are wont to do. Blood brothers we said. It was in innocence. We never understood nor could ever hope to imagine, how this pact would seal our fates. He fulfilled his part. My debt will never be paid.

The few friends that I had made over the months in the hospital did nothing to assuage my longing. As cherished as some of the staff became in time, I was consumed night and day by a feverish need to return home. A new year was here, and my heart—my _everything_—was waiting.

The retracing of my journey was markedly different. By wagon, by train, by ship—by train, by wagon again: every shimmy and shake, every rut and cobblestone out of step, threaded coarse needles through an invisible limb and ignited my flesh from boot to cap. Six months in Paris, and not once had I found myself strolling beneath the Arc de Triomphe, lighting a candle at Notre Dame, or standing victoriously atop the Eiffel Tower.

Some of that time is forgotten, and some is embedded too deeply to ever be erased.

~•~•~•~

Midday. The city is wrapped in a crisp white veil that glistens in blues and pinks. Even though the sun is high and blinding, it's a welcome greeting after the arduous two-week-long trek. We pass through downtown, then the beginnings of familiar neighborhoods. Children pause in their play only to let snowballs fly and angels dance through the street in our wake. As we get near, my mouth begins to water at the thought of Mrs. Cope's pot roast and the smell of her pecan pie.

Before I know it, red stone and black iron are in front of me, suddenly bringing about such a torrent of emotions that I have trouble finding my breath. I know this place like my own hands. All my best memories, save for Isabella, reside here: the banister, burnished from the wool of young boys' trousers as they raced dragons when no one was looking; hours spent in the library with Mother discussing the merit of Romeo's actions; the front room, filled to the rafters with evergreen at Christmas—Father teasing us that maybe we could do with a smaller tree, yet always bringing home the largest one. These memories, and so many more, belong to an innocence that no longer exists.

On the front steps, a woman is sweeping weightless flakes from the doorway. Her gaunt form provides nothing more than a hanger for her clothes, and her ashen skin betrays sleepless nights. She casually turns to watch the stranger being wheeled from a medical wagon.

She doesn't know me, not anymore.

Once, then twice she blinks, before her vision waters when the moment of recognition lands. Her hands stop moving the broom and she stares with unrestrained honesty: disbelief, horror, remorse, and then love. Always love.

My beautiful mother, so immaculate, is now a specter of the proud, lively woman I remember. I feel as though I should know her anywhere, yet were it not for her auburn hair and forgiving smile, I wouldn't recognize her at all.

At once, she's scrambling down the steps of my childhood home, only to pull up short when she reaches me. When I left, I had towered over her stately frame, looking down to find her crown. Now she is the giant, and I must look up to find her eyes. Sure hands of a mother tremble as they begin tracing my face over and over.

"You're thinner," she whispers.

"So are you."

This moment, the very essence of her, it's all too much. I wrap my arms around her middle and cling to her as I did when I was five. She smells the same and feels the same and it stirs a faint memory of stumbling off the Ferris Wheel at Riverside Park, skinning my knees and elbows. Her worry was no less, then.

"Sweetheart, come, it's cold; let's get you inside."

By now the whole neighborhood is aware that Edward Masen has returned from battle. I have no desire to greet them, nor to share sensational tales to feed their curiosity. There is nothing left to prove or say.

Like a child, I am lifted from my wheelchair and carried up the steps behind her. The driver, Corporal McCarty, sets me on the chaise in the front room and leaves me with my crutches.

"Thank you."

He grabs my hand with a firm shake and nods. "Take care, Private."

My mother settles in next to me and clutches my forearm in the sleeve of my uniform. "Where is Mrs. Cope?" I ask.

"She's visiting her cousin in St. Louis, but she'll be back at the end of the week. I tried to convince her to stay as long as she needs, but you know Mrs. Cope, she loves cooking and washing for you boys. I believe she truly thinks of you as her own."

The grandfather clock in the foyer chimes, startling me. It's not loud, but just loud enough to take me back. I won't be towed under. Not now. I breathe and I sit. Another chime. Another breath. Eyes are on me, but I can't meet them yet. It's a minute before everything settles and I can find my voice again.

"Mother?"

"I can't believe you're finally home. I thought I'd lost you."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't understand…"

"Edward…" She reaches for my other hand, stroking my knuckles with her warmth.

"Can you ever forgive me? I was such a fool. I should have listened. I shouldn't have been so arrogant to think that I was some kind of—"

"Shh, shh. There's nothing to forgive. Why would you even need to ask?"

"How can you say that?"

"Because you are my son. What else would you have me do?"

"Shout. Curse. Tell me I should lie in the bed I made."

"And would that allow you to feel better? Do you believe you haven't suffered enough?" she asks.

"No. Yes. I don't know anymore, Mother. The mistakes I've made…not the least of which was lying to enlist."

"Oh, my dear boy. It's going to be all right. You are finally home and _that_ is truly something to celebrate," she beams through watery eyes. "We didn't know exactly when you'd be here. Your father and brother should be home soon though, and then we can finally have a family dinner." The tears spill over but she's happy in spite of them.

"Mother, if you don't mind, I was hoping to ring up Isabella; I must see her. I have thought of little else all these months and I don't want to wait. I've made quite a mess of it, and I need to make things right with her."

Both hands quickly muzzle her response, before a prayer escapes. The shift in her countenance and the unbridled grief in every line of her face, speak of some story I don't want to know.

She's waiting, watching me; shaking her head.

"She's…gone, Edward."

"Gone? That can't be." Part of me feared this, but another part of me, the part buried under mountains of doubt, held tightly to the dream, and the promise that she would be waiting. Or at least do me the courtesy of confronting me with her rejection, rather than letting me cling to false hope.

"Has she...did she find someone else when she learned…? No, no, I have no right to blame her. After all, I can't offer the life she deserves." I try to sit a little taller, but the weight of this news lies heavy on my chest. I don't want to be a sniveling child in front of my mother, but my face begins to sting anyway.

"No Edward." She pulls back, takes a stuttering breath, and then looks me square in the eye. "Isabella…died…a month ago tomorrow," she clarifies. "She was sick. Poor dear fought so hard to hang on…nearly seven days. She kept asking for you. I sent you a letter, it must not have reached you before you left…" Her sobs choke out the rest, but it doesn't matter; their meaning is impossible.

"That's not…I...there were no letters. I haven't received any for nearly a month! I thought if I saw her, if she knew that I was still...if I apologized, maybe—

"She told me…she came to me and said—"

Heat becomes fire, fire an inferno; burning first through marrow before devouring bone, until nothing remains but ash.

I retch into my lap. If I were able to run, I would fly through the streets and not stop until I had found my way back to her. Instead, I am shackled by this inadequate body, unable to maintain the stature that was stolen. Without dignity, I wail to a God that has stopped listening.

A lifetime passes in a vivid dream. I am lost to a future that will never come to be.

Faintly, and from far away, I hear my mother's soft voice humming a child's lullaby as she embraces me with everything she has. There are no words to be found between us.

Cautiously, she hands me a creased envelope with the stamp affixed. The handwriting has smeared, but familiar arcs and flourishes bring on another wave of bile. "Son? I don't know what this letter contains, or if it will provide any solace. Mrs. Swan had set it aside for you after…Isabella intended to mail it before getting sick. It never made it to the post."

My greed and denial snatch it from her fingers.

_._

.

~•~•~•~

_December 7, 1918_

_My Edward,_

_I apologize that it has taken several days to compose myself enough to respond to your letter. If I could have willed my words to you in a prayer, I would not have left you to suffer all this time._

_Dear Edward, I feel as if I have drowned and then drowned again. Do not mistake this hole in my chest for anything other than a product of your fears. Though I grieve for what you have faced alone, I have shed rivers that you trust my heart so little._

_How could you not know by now, that if you came back in twenty pieces, I would treasure every one of them? What kind of woman would I be to turn my back on you? Do you not still have your clever mind or your kind, intrepid spirit? Then you are living my love, and that is a miracle._

_If you still wish for a life with me, then yes, Edward, we will make it work. Whatever it is you need, if it is in my power to provide, it's yours. Do not believe even for a moment that I want you any less._

_I pray every night that God continues to keep you safe. Perhaps that is selfish, when there are so many others in need, but I do not care. You are always at the forefront of my heart. I dream of the day I can once again hear your voice, see your face and feel your lips, and know that you are mine to keep. _

_I believe I have loved you from the moment you first smiled at me and offered your arm, and that has not changed, even now. Put your thoughts at ease dear Edward, I am here, waiting for you to return. I will wait forever if that's what I must do. _

_Please, come home to me._

_Always,  
>Isabella<em>

~•~•~•~


End file.
